


First Class on a Monday Morning

by revestogers (thenewdarling)



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewdarling/pseuds/revestogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik are schoolteachers at the Westchester School for Gifted Youngsters. Charles is a likeable sod who can't get his class to engage, and Erik is an apathetic sadist who you fear seeing on your timetable. They're also a little bit smitten with each other.</p>
<p>Teacher AU. It's also more than a little bit shameless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Also yeah, I've written most of this on very little sleep so apologies for any typos. It's also probably possible I've moved bits of conversations around so it may look a little clunky in places.

A spiralling vortex of genes, sparkling with electricity. Professor Xavier's voice spoke out: "Mutation."

He paused for effect. "Mutation took us from single-celled organisms to being the dominant form of reproductive life on this planet. Infinite forms of variation with each -- no. No, listen! Infinite forms of variation with each generation, all through mu-- Bobby, are you asleep?"

Bobby snorted, waking with a start. "Sorry. Sorry Professor."

Charles sighed and turned off the projector. The lights on the classroom brightened and the lethargic student mass blinked dimly. "Come on guys, mutation is really interesting and I just need you all to eng--" He was cut off by the school bell.

He sighed. "Right. Ok." They bustled out.

Scott was the last one out, packing his books in his rucksack.

"What do I need to do to get their attention?" Charles said.

Scott shrugged, throwing his varsity jacket over his shoulder. "Sorry, sir."

He'd always been told if your students liked you it'd be easy to get their attention. He dropped the projector remote on the desk and went to get lunch.

#

He and Erik took turns to eat lunches in each other’s classrooms. The teacher’s lounge was overcrowded and stuffy, especially in summer, and they enjoyed each other’s company. Erik taught Physics, and though he liked his topic of expertise, he wasn’t exactly a fan of teaching - and Charles knew the kids weren’t exactly a fan of him either.

Today was Charles’ turn to host. Erik sat on the other side of the desk, deftly eating a sushi box with chopsticks. Chopsticks had never been a skill Charles was any good at. Neither were the clunky old computers the school used.

“Blast…” he said, throwing the mouse away and staring at the screen in frustration. “I think it’s crashed again.”

Erik looked up. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“I’m doing it perfectly, I’m just-“

Erik walked round the desk and leaned down over Charles’ back to hold the mouse.

Click, click, click, and the machine whirred like a content cat, rolling onto its back for him. The attendance register slid off the screen and a happy-looking confirmation box popped up. Charles turned his head to look at him. Erik’s smug grin made him want to punch him in the jaw. “Shut up.” He said it before Erik could begin to say anything at all.

“Aaaannd….” Erik added, scrolling through the rest of the information on the screen.

Charles’ eyes wandered as he felt Erik’s collarbone pressing into the back of his neck. His loose black t-shirt was so low-cut Charles could see halfway down his chest.

“Charles,” Erik said, snapping his attention back to the screen. “You were eyeing me up.”

“Nope,” Charles said, running a hand through his hair and scoffing. “I was just thinking how you continue to dress like that without losing your job.”

Erik stood back up, arching his back and looking affronted. Then he shrugged and god-damn. It looked like the shirt was about to fall off. “I get no complaints.”

Charles cleared his throat. “I bet,” he shook his head, grinning. Writing a note on a Post-It from the message on the screen Erik had brought up, he turned back to the papers on his desk. “Seriously though, you have to stop being so vulgar on premises. We could get in trouble.”

“Vulgar?” Erik said. He pointed over Charles’ shoulder. “You have a giant picture of a dick on your wall and you’re calling me vulgar?”

“It’s a diagram, don’t get cute,” Charles said, without looking. Erik had already made that joke before.

“You were the one looking, Charles,” Erik said, and he plopped the last sushi roll into his mouth, binning the box on his way out the door. “I’ll see you after school.”

“Bye,” Charles called after him.

He tried to ignore his face burning.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik didn’t like much about teaching, but he enjoyed how kids would scuttle out of his way in the halls. Like cockroaches. He couldn’t get how Charles insisted on trying to make the kids feel like they were his equals - they were kids. Hadn’t he seen what they got up to when they weren’t in the classroom? Hell - when they _were_ in the classroom?

Besides - it was cool to be feared.

He strode into the classroom and the ruckus died instantly. “Books out, page 67,” he said, putting his scarf down on the table and draping his jacket over the back of his chair. “Today we’re studying transistors. Read to page 70 and then we’re doing an experiment.”

There was a predictable murmur of interest.

“There will be no need to talk,” he said, and went to his computer to load the register and check his Facebook.

After a few minutes, he looked up from his feed to see someone passing a note.

Perfect.

He stood, and watched as they tried to hide it. “Darkholme.”

“Yes sir?” Marie said, sitting straight up in her seat.

He held his hand out. “Give me the note.”

She perched in her chair, jaw gritting. She pushed a curtain of hair out of her eyes and stared at him.

He stood over her now. “Give me the note,” he said again.

“What note?” she said, her Southern accent more pronounced with her defiance.

“The one you just tried to hide in your pocket, Miss Darkholme, we can do this all day.”

She snorted angrily, and dropped a balled up piece of paper into his hand. She motioned across the room to someone at another table: _‘sorry’_.

Erik turned, uncrumpling the paper. “Marie - I’m sorry about what I said to Kitty and Pietro about us. I thought you were getting bored of me, I want you to know I love you and I’m ready for us to be together again. From,” and he paused at this to look at Bobby Drake, who was now practically melted under the desk. _“Bobby.”_

He threw the paper in the bin. “Well, Drake, quite the Casanova aren’t we. But maybe leave your antics for _outside_ my classroom?”

Bobby said nothing. His face was purple.

“Well?” he asked.

Bobby grit his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I want 200 lines on my desk by tomorrow morning - ‘ _I will not pass notes in class.’_ If you do it again, I’ll make it _‘I will not be a terrible boyfriend.’_ Ok?”

The rest of the class was stifling a giggle. Bobby looked like he was ready to flip his table. Marie was burying her head in her hands.

Satisfied, Erik turned to the whiteboard, and started writing up an exam question. “Pop quiz.”

There was a chorus of moaning from the entire classroom and it was only then Erik heard a weak knocking on the door.

It was Charles, carrying books under his arm. He had that dorky green bow-tie on again. “Professor Xavier,” he said.

“Professor Lehnsherr,” Charles nodded. Erik grinned. Charles pronounced it so properly. _“Lain-ziurr”_. “I brought that book you needed.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking it from him. Pointedly, he added, “Will that be all?”

Charles leaned in to him, muttering low but loud enough that the front rows would be able to hear, “That note thing was really unprofessional - you shouldn’t have done that.”

Erik leaned back, wide-eyed. He was totally doing this to curry favour with the students! “Charles,” he said, pointedly using his first name, “with all due respect, the way I teach my classes is none of your business.”

Charles bit his lip, but shook his head. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

The bell went, and the students, who had already packed up while the two of them had been talking, bolted for the door.

#

“A field trip!” Charles said, flailing his hands about. They were in Erik’s office this time.

“A what?” Erik asked.

“Field trip! To Cerebro! The world’s biggest MRI brain scanner in the Western world! We should take the kids!”

“Oh. So we’re not going to talk about how you demonised me in front of my class to make them like you more.” Erik pouted.

Charles stopped, and raised an eyebrow. “Erik, you did that to yourself. And I stand by what I said, that sort of behaviour was abusive. Imagine those kids tell their parents.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “So. You were saying. About Cerebro.”

“Yes!” Charles returned to his original train of thought. “I think it’s just the thing to get the kids interested in my subject!”

“Charles, a herd of wild wildebeest couldn’t get kids interested in your subject. In fact, I know it couldn’t - wasn’t it on the syllabus last year?”

Charles sat down on the front desk of Erik’s office and looked dejected. “But Cerebro is amazing. And not just, theory amazing. It’s _properly amazing you can see it in front of you_.”

Erik chuckled. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Nerd, and proud,” Charles said, straightening his bow tie.

Erik raised an eyebrow. He’d already decided to help Charles - he usually did - but if there was a chance he could sweeten the pot…. “I’ll help on one condition. Please, never wear that bow tie again.”

“Done,” said Charles, who knew there were like four other bow-ties he could wear even if this one was off-limits. He threw his hands up. “It’s going to be fantastic!”

“And Raven is on board with this,” Erik said, suspicious.

“Well, I haven’t asked her yet. But, I just need the backup of my fellow teachers….? Some support in this matter…?”

Erik could tell where this was going. Charles wanted him to actually approach the headmistress with him to clear it. “No.”

“Professor LeBeau said he was in….?”

“No!”

“And Professor McCoy in English.”

“I don’t even know who that is.”

“Of course you don’t,” Charles rubbed his sinuses. “You only remember the pretty ones.”

Erik furrowed his brow. “You think a lot of yourself.”

Charles’ ears tinged beautifully, predictably pink. Erik smirked.

“Also, Professor Logan.”

“The weird art teacher? The one with the uh…?” He mimed slashing canvases with Stanley knives - something Professor Logan was apparently a bit of an internet sensation for.

“Yeah, he said the… technological … I can’t remember. Something about how it was pretty.”

“Sounds profound.”

“Seriously though Erik, it’s the coolest thing ever and it’d really mean a lot to me if the kids got to see it.”

Erik put a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Chuck, this is going to be… the best field trip, ever.”

Charles clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Fantastic.” Then he shook and gave an excited squeak.


	3. Chapter 3

The old school bus sat like an abandoned hot dog in the sun, smelly and dejected outside the front of the school. Raven looked it up and down and shuddered. Even the thought of sitting in it for the two day trip was making her gag.

“We should really do something about that bus,” Charles said in passing. “It’s probably a health hazard.”

Raven blinked. “Well. We were going to. But then we spent all the money on a field trip.”

Charles pretended that there was something just out of sight he had to bustle off and help with, finding Erik at the back of the bus loading kid’s bags in. They were going to spend an overnight bus on the way there, overnight at a booked hostel, and then have the whole next day at the Cerebro Center, before heading back. It was just too far away for a day trip.

“Hello, Hank,” Charles nodded at the other teacher in the tweed jacket before nodding to Erik. “Erik.”

Erik looked up, and smiled. Then, he seemed to notice that Hank was standing there. “Oh. Hi. Erik Lenhsherr. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Hank McCoy,” Hank said, shaking his hand. “We have. A few times now.”

“Oh,” Erik said. “Sorry.” He turned back to throw a large suitcase into the back. “Seriously - what do these kids need? It’s an overnight trip, not a week in Prague.”

“That one’s mine, Mr. Lehnsherr,” Raven said, approaching.

Erik laughed. “Sorry, Raven.” But she had already climbed into the bus. Erik squinted. “She is weirding me out today. What’s all that for?”

“Frankly I don’t understand why she funded the trip,” Hank said. “No offence, Charles - Cerebro’s a beautiful machine, but this is costing quite a bit of money.” Charles scratched his head, grimacing.

#

Raven sat down at the front of the bus and pulled out a pocket mirror, checking her make-up. The kids started climbing on.

“Oh!” she said, as Marie climbed in. “Sit here!” She patted the seat next to her.

Marie raised an eyebrow. “Uh, no. Sorry mom. I’m gonna sit with my friends.” And the gang of girls climbed down to the back of the bus.

She forced a smile. “Okay.”

She was going to get _some_ mother-daughter bonding time on this damn trip if it killed her.

#

Pyro was the weird kid who sat at the back of the classroom and burned things.

His name wasn’t actually Pyro, obviously - it was John. But even some of the teachers called him Pyro, it was pretty bad.

He was sat next to Erik - mainly because most of the students refused to sit with him, and Lehnsherr was the only teacher who gave him the time of day. Even Charles was a little reticent around him.

Pyro sat and stared out the window. Erik awkwardly twiddled his thumbs. He felt so damn old, a grown man sitting on a school bus surrounded by kids. He knew this was going to happen. He turned round to talk to Charles, who was in the seat behind him. “How long is this bus ride again?”

“About eight hours.”

“Sweet lord, I’m going to kill myself.”

Charles held up a handheld CD player with _James and the Giant Peach_ inside it. “You should’ve brought something to do.”

Erik was going to make a joke but he felt the eyes of a hundred teenagers around him, so he thought better of it. “Maybe I’ll just sleep through it.”

He turned round and stared ahead. Then he noticed Pyro was staring at him.

Erik raised an eyebrow. “What.”

Pyro shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing.”

“Right…” he said. “Um…” He tried to remember what it was Pyro’s class was studying right now. “How’s that, uh… assignment going?”

“Fine,” Pyro said, then he stared out the window again.

He could hear Charles and Jean Grey talking in the row behind him. He didn’t really know much about Jean other than her terribly dry Head Girl speeches.

There was very little other to do right now though than listen.

“So, have you kissed him yet?” she whispered, coyly.

Erik furrowed his brow as he heard Charles splutter.

“What?” he asked, under his breath. “What on earth are you-?”

“Professor, we all know.”

“Know what?!” His voice squeaked.

“About you and Professor Lehnsherr,” she said, as though she were explaining to a child. “The entire school has to watch you two, it’s a little sickly to be honest.”

Erik grinned like a fox in his seat, but didn’t say anything. Maybe this field trip was going to be fun after all.


	4. Chapter 4

The school party crowded round the machine, braying to see. Charles and Erik stood near the front, Charles arms folded and Erik leaning on a table. The tour guide held up the helmet. “Essentially, it’s an amplifier. It takes your brain waves, and scales them up for all of us to see.”

“Fascinating,” Erik said drolly, under his breath into Charles’ ear. Charles was vibrating like a puppy.

“I’m going to need a volunteer,” the tour guide said. He looked up at Charles and Erik. “Um. One that’s over 18, unfortunately. Insurance reasons.” He cringed.

Everyone looked at Erik.

“Oh, hell no. You’re not putting me in that thing - it’ll fry my brain,” he gestured at the machine. He looked at Charles, who beamed.

“I’ll do it,” Charles said, stepping forward. A few students whooped. Erik raised a judgmental eyebrow and they shut up.

The tour guide hooked the helmet over his head. It sat like a cradle. He winked at them. There was a railing in front of him, and he wrung his hands along it. “How do I look?” he asked, grinning.

“You make an adorable lab rat, Charles - um, Professor Xavier,” he corrected himself, almost forgetting the kids were there. Jean Grey made a funny noise behind him, and he swallowed. The sudden feeling of scrutiny made his palms sweaty.

“Don’t spoil this for me, Professor,” Charles stuck his tongue out.

“It’d work better if you had shorter hair,” the tour guide muttered as he hooked it up to the machine.

“Don’t touch my hair,” Charles interrupted.

The tour guide chuckled. “Yeah, we get that a lot. Ok, we’re ready.”

“Watch closely, kids. You’re about to see something… amazing…” He watched as the lights along the roof came up, diodes flashing back and forth, computer banks humming.

“Three.. two.. one… You may feel a small kick, by the way.” said the tour guide, and he pressed a button. “And, sync.” He hit a large red plunger, and the helmet lit up.

“Woah!” Charles said as he gripped the banister tight. His eyes dazzled as it felt like he’d been thrown out of his body for a second. He laughed. “That _is_ a kick.”

The entire room flooded with a light display of a hundred different colours.

“How are you feeling?” the tour guide asked.

Charles nodded, a little dumbstruck. He was staring off into space.

“ _This_ ,” the tour guide gestured around him at Cerebro’s dance. “Is what’s going on inside your head all day, every day. Even while you’re asleep.”

Erik smirked. Well, Charles was right. He had the kids’ attention.

“It’s a live feed. The helmet’s picking up exactly what’s going on in his brain right now. We can,” he raised two hands and pulled a section out to zoom in. “See every thought, every synapse. On a near molecular level. Watch.” He clapped his hands, and it zoomed back out. “Mr. Xavier, could you raise your arm please?”

Xavier unsteadily took his hand off the railing, as though he were standing at the top of a tall building. It was the same sense of glee that seemed to be running across his face.

The tour guide pinched his arm, and tongues of red flared up in the orange dust floating around them. “Ow!”

“See?” The tour guide pointed at it. “That’s your teacher’s nerve centre - that flash of red was your brain feeling the pain from the arm and telling him to yell out.”

“Could we try punching him in the face now?” Erik said. There was a murmur of laughter from the room.

The tour guide turned back to Charles. “So, how do you feel?”

“Well, other than the sore arm now - thanks, by the way - splendid.” And he gasped suddenly. “Absolutely splendid.”

His gaze fell from the lights of his own making, onto the congregated class. He grinned, the lights turning a variety of different colours. Then his gaze landed on Erik. The two of them smiled at each other, and the entire light display turned bright pink.

Charles’ cheeks followed suit.

 

#

 

“More tea, vicar?” Erik asked, filling up Charles’ wine glass.

“Don’t mind if I do, old chap,” he laughed, taking it. “Seriously though, that thing is bloody addictive. Watch out tomorrow.” He pointed at Hank, Raven and Logan. He was aware by now that his words were slurring but he was trying to ignore it. The teachers were making use of the hotel bar before bed.

“What did it feel like?” Hank asked, pressing his glasses up his nose.

“Like… I don’t know. It was like a high. I was so lucid though. It just feels like you’re hyper-aware? Or like you’ve been… I dunno.”

“I still think it’s dangerous,” said Erik. “You’ll not be getting me in it.”

“Me neither,” Raven said. “I’m interested to see the practical applications though. The leaps they’ll make in understanding the brain, the effects of drugs, treating mental illnesses, psychology, not to mention tumours and-“

“Jeez Louise, Raven, I’ve already gotten all this from the tour guide today,” Erik said.

Raven chuckled. “Sorry. My bad.” She knocked back the last of her drink, and poured another. “Last one,” she promised.

Erik shook a hand. “Ah, it’s fine. Besides, I’m interested to see if Cerebro can pick up a hangover.”

They laughed. “Erik, you’re a terrible influence,” she said.

There was a bang from upstairs like something falling over.

Raven squeezed her eyes tight like she might be able to just wake up. “Fuck. Someone’s going to have to check on them.” She checked her breath.

“I’ll go,” Logan said, standing.

“No!” Charles shouted, then realised he probably shouldn’t have. “I’ll - I’ll go,” he said. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that if Logan was left alone with the students one of them would end up diced into pieces.

Logan raised his eyebrows. “O… k?” He sat back down.

“Right.” Charles stood, smoothing down his shirt, and fixing his bow-tie, and he went up the stairs.

“Was that a good idea?” Raven asked the group after he was gone.

“Probably not,” said Hank.

 

#

 

Charles climbed the stairs, slowly, carefully. He rubbed his eyes. 

He reached the third floor to find Marie and Kitty Pryde rolling around on top of each other, tugging each other’s hair out. The kids rallied around them chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” and it took him a second to even understand what was going on.

“Oy! _Oy!_ ” he shouted. “Get off of each other!” He pulled Marie off of Kitty, who had a shiner of a bruise forming on her cheekbone. “Where the hell are Jean and Scott? They were supposed to be watching you, I-?” he asked, out of breath.

The two of them were staring daggers at each other as the entire crowd looked at their feet, reticent.

“Just what the _hell_ is going on here?” he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I don't condone teachers drinking on field trips. XD


	5. Chapter 5

The closet door rattled on its hinges as Charles tried to jimmy it open. It was all he could do not to just rip it off the frame but it was a hotel and he already felt like he was in enough trouble.

Eventually, it opened. “Get out,” he nodded out, face like a graveyard.

“Professor, I’m _so_ sorry, I’m-“

“No, it’s not your fault,” he said as Jean and Scott climbed out of the closet, still only half-dressed.

“Who, which…. _genius_ ,” he spat. “Thought it was a good idea to lock them in there?”

No-one spoke.

Charles shut his eyes and sighed, counting to ten in his head. “Right. All of you go to bed. _Now._ And if I hear another word out of any of you you don’t want to know what I’ll do.”

There was a general shuffling before he added, “Marie, Katherine, not you. You two are going to sit down and tell me what caused that.”

#

Charles sat down at a chair in a side-room, and gestured for them to do the same. “Frankly, Professor Lehnsherr should be doing this. He’s your teacher after all, but he’d probably just give you a referral.” Shit. Did he just diss another teacher in front of students? This should probably wait til morning, but he couldn’t just change his mind now that they were in the room mid-punishment.

“I however,” he continued, “would like to know exactly what it was that caused this.”

The two of them started shouting, in unison, so loud that it just sounded like some bizarre counterpoint of cats in a bag in the river.

“Stop! Stop!” he said, then pointed at Marie. “You start. Then we’ll hear you.” He pointed at Kitty.

Now that the room was silent, Marie seemed to bite her tongue. 

“Fine,” she said, eventually. “So Kitty came up to me and said that Bobby had said that…”

Charles rubbed his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

#

Charles swiped his keycard in his lock, realising that everyone else had gone to bed - and couldn’t help feel a little cheated out of his evening. He kept having to remind himself that he was here on work.

Getting in and letting the door slam behind him, he threw the keycard on the desk and started peeling his jacket off when he jumped out of his wits.

“Jesus Erik!!” he stammered. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Erik grinned drunkenly, lying on Charles’ bed.

“How did you even get in here?” Charles asked, his voice cracking.

Erik shooshed him, then tapped his nose ham-fistedly. “None of your business,” he said.

“Um, no, actually, I think it is my-“

“That’s your problem Charles,” Erik said, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed. “You… _talk too much_.” He said it with a gravity that could only be mustered by the very drunk. Then he laughed, his head rolling around.

He was wearing that ridiculously low-cut top again, Charles noted.

“Sorry, chap, I’ll try and-“

“There you go! You’re doing it again!” Erik threw a hand up. “Get out of here!” He waved it at Charles.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “This is _my_ room. How much have you had to drink?”

Erik pointed a finger at Charles. “Not enough. Not nearly enough.”

“You’re supposed to be on shift.”

Erik seemed to have forgotten he was supposed to be leaving. He slid back and propped himself up against the wall. “Trust me, if you think I’m bad you should see Raven.”

“I don’t think she gets out as much as you,” Charles said.

Erik patted the bed beside him like a small child stroking a cat and taking its eye out. “Come sit with me old friend. I’m afraid I don’t have my chess set with you.”

“You mean you don’t have your chess s—“

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Erik said, pushing a finger to his lips. “There you go again, running your mouth. Listen. Do you hear that?”

Charles stopped, and listened. The old, rotten walls were creaking. The wind outside was getting a little loud and rain battered the windows. Down the street he could hear an old woman shouting. Downstairs, he was pretty sure it was Bobby and Marie whispering.

“Hear what in particular?”

“Just… the silence, Charles. Just enjoy it. Come sit and enjoy it.”

“This isn’t a particularly quiet hotel,” Charles said.

“Well maybe you just talk so much cos you wanna drown all the noise out,” Erik said, looking at him. Charles looked at him. They stared into each others’ eyes for what seemed like a good half-minute. The moonlight through the window made him look almost scary, his piercing eyes.

“Are you gonna come sit down or am I going to have to drag you?” Erik said. He twisted round, and for a second Charles’ mind went somewhere which surprised him, but he was just reaching to get the remainder of a bottle of wine he’d put down the corner of the bed. “I have vino,” he shook the bottle.

Charles cracked a smile. “Sure. Why not.”

Charles sat down, keeping a good inch between them intentionally. Erik took a good swig of the bottle then passed it over.

“What pathetic old men we’ve become, Erik,” Charles said dryly, reaching to take the bottle.

His fingers lit up as they touched Erik’s as the bottle was passed, and he nearly dropped it. He closed his eyes, and downed the rest of it in one go.

When he opened them, Erik looked like he’d just kicked a puppy into a river. “Charles, that was all I had left!”

“Sorry. You’ve just got me now, dear.”

Erik laughed then, pressing his face into the bedsheets. When he got up, his eyes looked dewey with happiness. “How long have we been friends, Charles?”

Charles scoffed. “Longer than I’d care to remember.”

“Do you remember Moira McTaggart?”

Charles ran a hand through his hair, noticing vaguely that his hands were freezing but his face was burning hot. “The girl in my course at Oxford?”

“I hated her,” Erik said.

“She was my girlfriend.”

“Yep,” Erik said. He leaned back into the wall like it was a comfortable pillow. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for over ten years now.”

Charles pouted. “What was wrong with her? She was nice.”

“She was so not you.”

“She was very me! She liked all the same things as me, and she was-“ he said, but Erik reached over and put a finger on his lips.

For a second, Charles forgot to breathe. The words caught in his mouth and they wouldn’t come out.

Erik looked at him knowingly. “She was _so, not, you.”_

Charles was breathing hard, and he wasn’t even sure why. Oh my God shit fuck jesus is this really going to happen now I-

“Charles…”

“Are you going to kiss me?” He wasn’t sure if he was scared or worried or happy, he was just-

Erik smiled like a jungle cat. His eyes rolled slightly as he slurred, “You’re a mind-reader.”

He leaned over, and….

His head fell on Charles’ shoulder.

He began to snore softly, his body resting on Charles.

Charles wanted to slap him.

He gave him a kick in the shin, to which he didn’t respond, and then he tucked the idiot in, and went to find someone to let him sleep in Erik’s empty bed.


	6. Chapter 6

Charles woke up and for a second didn’t realise where he was, mainly because his head was pounding so hard he couldn’t remember his own name. That and the horrifically painful morning wood which taunted him like an optimistic knife in the ribs.

He sat up, scratching at his bedhead. The world felt grey. He was pretty sure Oxford had completely ruined his liver beyond repair and that was why he was such a lightweight now.

Then he realised he was in Erik’s room, and remembered the narrow avoidance of _that_.

He needed a shower.

Begrudgingly, he got out of bed and climbed into his clothes. Peeking out of the door, he checked the hallway was empty and tiptoed to his room.

Erik was already gone. He must have come into his own room and gotten dressed while Charles was sleeping. The thought kind of creeped him out to be honest, but he was grateful to not have to have _that_ conversation right now. If Erik could even remember it, which was a possibility he was not ready to let go of yet.

He showered, threw his laundry in his bag, put on a fresh pair of clothes, and packed up the rest of his meagre belongings for the bus ride home. He wished he’d brought aspirin.

Throwing his rucksack over his shoulder, he went down to meet the other teachers and the students for breakfast.

#

Breakfast was several large trays of English breakfast components with plates sitting next to them. Charles’ poor stomach sang in joy as he heaped scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, black pudding, and something which he assumed was mashed potato but looked more like old mustard. It didn’t matter. It looked filling.

He sat down, his nose assaulted by the greasy, delicious scents, and Hank sat next to him. “Hey man, some night last night.”

Hank was eating yoghurt and biscuits from a tupperware. Charles felt offended.

In between crunches of biscuit, he said, “Raven’s pissed at you for missing headcount this morning by the way.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Raven is conscious?”

“Oh yeah. Conscious in the same way a cranky zombie is conscious after reanimation, but conscious. Jesus, you’re really packing that in.” Hank looked at him shovelling food in his mouth.

Charles looked down. He’d eaten half his delicious feast without even savouring the taste. “I had a late night.”

Hank laughed. “I bet. The kids didn’t smell booze on you did they?”

Charles went pale. “I wasn’t _drunk.”_

“You weren’t sober, teach,” Hank replied. “Should’ve sent Logan.”

“It amazes me that Logan is still empl…” He trailed off as Logan sat down across from him, frowning at him.

“You were saying, bub?” he asked, knife cutting into a piece of bacon like a tooth.

“Sorry, Professor, that was unprofessional of me, I just-“ Charles started.

“Need to stop running that mouth of yours, Charles,” Logan said, pointing a bacon-loaded fork at him. “It’s gonna get you in trouble.”

Charles had a sudden, vivid memory of Erik saying the same thing the night before. His stomach did a backflip which the scrambled eggs didn’t appreciate.

#

Jean walked up the aisle and threw her backpack down on the seat next to Pyro.

He looked up at her suspiciously and blew a bubble with his gum. “That’s not your seat.”

“I know. I’m swapping with Professor Lehnsherr.”

Pyro, bless him, looked a little hurt. “Does he know about this?”

“No. But I doubt he’ll complain.”

“What if I complain?” He folded his arms.

“You won’t,” Jean said, and she parked herself in the seat, crossing her legs and folding down her skirt. Then she shot him a dark look. “I know it was you that locked Scott and I in that cupboard.”

Pyro raised his eyebrows. “Ooh, _Scott and I_? Alright, Princess. I’ll ind—“

“Don’t call me Princess if you want to keep your legs,” she said, almost absently, looking down the aisle.

Marie and her friends clambered in. From what Jean had heard, she and Kitty had patched things up. The younger ones always did. Tensions would flare and then die out and normality would be restored. She wanted to talk to her about it though - and ask where Bobby had been for all of this. But for now, they settled for a cordial nod as they passed each other, and then Professor Xavier walked onto the bus and she ducked her head down.

It wasn’t until he’d sat down in his seat and turned round to view the rest of the bus he noted that Jean was sitting in the wrong seat.

He sighed, deeply. “Really?”

She nodded vigorously.

He smiled. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for not ratting on me to Professor Darkholme,” she said.

Charles laughed. “I’m probably not in her good books, I think it would hurt me more than it would hurt you.”

And then Erik bounded up the aisle. He was looking right as rain, grinning away despite the obvious hangover sunglasses. He noted Jean and Pyro. “Oh.” He tilted his head. “Move?”

Jean put on her best sad face. “Sorry sir, I’ve already put my seatbelt on!” She gave it a tug to show him.

Erik rolled his eyes. “You’re a wily one, Grey.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

Erik plonked himself down next to Charles, spreading his legs out and leaning back into the chair, rubbing his sinuses.

#

“How are you doing?” Charles whispered, half an hour in when Erik pretending to be asleep became too unbearable. “You were out for the count.”

“I bounce back quickly.” Erik pulled his sunglasses off and winked as he hung them from his tee-shirt collar. The noise of the bus engine and the humid carriage was starting to make Charles feel nauseous. Erik’s chipper attitude only served to make it worse.

“How much of last night do you remember?”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “I want to say all of it. Why do you ask?”

Charles looked at him. “Seriously? What you said? What you were going to-?”

“You mean when I…” he trailed off.

Charles rubbed his sinuses. “When you… said why you hated Moira?” He was desperately trying to dance around the subject.

Erik looked at his feet. “Yes. That. Quite.” He chewed his teeth. “I … think I’d blocked that out. God. How embarrassing.”

Charles smiled. It was a little, affectionate smile, and it made Erik beam. “Yeah. You are pretty embarrassing.”

“Totally.”

“Practically a walking disaster.”

“Yeah.” Erik looked pleasantly confused. “So… why did you bring this up?”

Charles could feel the eyes of the entire bus on them. He was pretty sure no-one was listening, save maybe Jean (who had sat in stony silence ignoring Pyro the whole way). But still. Their presence made it even more awkward.

He looked out the window. “I don’t know why I brought it up. Just was curious.”

Erik leaned his head on the seat in front. “Curious, eh?”

“Yeah. To know if you remembered.”

Erik tutted, leaning back again and putting his sunglasses back on. “You’re a stubborn fool, Charles.”

“I know.”

Clearly Charles wasn’t going to make the jump. So he put his hand on the armrest, pretending he didn’t realise Charles already had his hand there.

Charles jumped.

“Erik, I-?”

He turned, and they stared at each other.

And then it finally happened.

#

It was a pretty chaste kiss all things considered, but they _were_ in the presence of teenagers. Their hands clasped on the armrest and Erik put his hand on the side of Charles’ face, holding his hair out of the way. Charles was so _soft._ His cheek, his hair, his lips, pliant and springy, and as he breathed, it tickled Erik’s face.

Someone must have noticed, because then the whooping started. And the choruses of comic disgust, and Erik could feel Charles’ face burning against his, and he didn’t give a jot and he actually found it pretty funny, and Grey was flailing in her chair and as Charles yanked himself away and averted his gaze, Erik couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oy!” he shouted. “Keep it down to a dull roar!”

As if it hadn’t even happened. But as the shouting fell to murmuring, the two of them smiled at each other.

Charles fell asleep on Erik’s shoulder, and he dozed contentedly until they arrived back at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It amazes me that still no-one is asking how Erik got into Charles' room.
> 
> (Also I promise there'll be consequences for all of this teaching misconduct soon. xD)


	7. Chapter 7

“You realise,” said Raven quietly to them, as they all climbed off the bus, “that was extremely unprofessional of you?”

“Sorry,” Charles said, looking at his feet.

“Not sorry,” Erik said.

“You will be,” she said, as they busied themselves helping the students with their luggage.

Pyro found Scott at the back of the bus, and cornered him before he could find Jean. “You have to help me,” he said.

Scott’s eyebrow poked out from behind his red sunglasses. “What do you want, dweeb?”

Pyro screwed his face up. “What is this 1993? No-one says _dweeb_ anymore.”

Scott raised his arms. “Do you want my help or not?”

Pyro sighed. “Yeah. You gotta make sure me and Jean are square now.”

“What?”

“After the whole, sitting with me on the bus thing she made me do.”

“Ah.” Scott sounded like he didn’t really know what was going on but had learned not to ask questions.

“So we’re square. Make sure she knows that. I don’t wan’t this hanging over my head.”

“Why don’t you tell her yourself?” Scott scoffed.

Pyro spat. “What? Because she’s _terrifying_.”

“More terrifying than me?”

There was an awkward pause.

Scott sighed. “Fair enough.”

“Thanks man, I owe you one.” Pyro ran off before Scott could take it back. Pyro was right, Jean was terrifying - and there was no way he was getting involved in this.

Jean put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey you.”

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, beaming.

“What did Pyro want?”

“No idea,” Scott said, taking her hand. There was no way they were going in another broom closet any time soon but maybe the bleachers were empty.

#

The teapot breathed steam up in curling tongues, making the entire room smell nice.

“Earl Grey?” Erik said as he entered. Charles was letting the pot steep while he readied the classroom for students again.

He adjusted his bow tie. “I didn’t choose the thug life, it chose me.”

Erik laughed. “You big nerd.” He brushed a hand off Charles’ face.

“Erik-!” Charles said, affronted.

Erik frowned. “What?”

“We’re in school!”

“We were on the _bus_ , that didn’t stop you.”

“Yeah but…” Charles looked at his feet. “You saw how Raven reacted. And besides, the bus was a one-off. If we start doing this at work, we’ll-“

“Would that be so bad?” Erik leaned against him and could hear Charles’ breath rising. He grinned like a wolf.

“Erik, no,” Charles said, putting a hand on Erik’s chest as he was pressed into the counter.

Erik sighed. “Ugh, you’re like a baby panda. Fine. And you can cut it with the puppy dog eyes.”

“What puppy dog eyes?” Charles said, turning them up to maximum intentionally. Erik grit his teeth and tried not to notice.

“Ooh, tea will be done,” Charles said, turning his attention to the teapot on the desk.

Erik looked Charles up and down. It was like he was trying to ignore everything that had happened. He coughed. “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

Charles looked up from pouring. He thought about it. “Yes,” he said eventually. Then he smiled. “Yes. I’d like that.”

Erik smiled. Maybe not completely ignoring then.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles checked his bow-tie and fixed his hair in the bus mirror before stepping off. The bus driver grinned, nodding at the flowers. “Special night for your lady-friend?”

Charles smirked. “Something like that.”

He skipped up the street, whistling to himself, completely unable to stop himself grinning. He’d been dithering with the flowers - Erik would probably just let them die after all - but it felt right now that he had them.

He’d been to Erik’s house before obviously, hundreds of times over the years, but this time was different. He wondered vaguely what dinner would entail - he’d stopped himself snacking all day to make sure he’d be hungry.

But when he turned the corner and the house, he stopped dead, his jaw dropping in horror.

Smoke was pouring out of Erik’s apartment window, flames licking at the bottom.

The flowers fell in slow-motion as Charles stumbled forwards. _“Erik!”_

He bundled through the open front door and up the stairs to the apartment door where he reached the green wooden front door.

Without even thinking, he started trying to kick down the front door. Green solid oak which didn’t yield. He was starting to get short of breath as he flailed, his leg pounding as he battered it off the door again and again. _“Erik! Erik!”_ he screamed, visions of Erik cornered in his room as the entire house burned, Erik screaming for help and..

The door swung open. Erik was standing, dripping wet with a towel draped round his waist, wielding a fire extinguisher. He looked at Charles like he was mad. _“What the fuck Charles??”_

“Erik! I thought…”

“What?” he said. “Jesus,” he shifted the fire extinguisher to the hand holding the towel up to run his hand over the door. “I hope you haven’t chipped the door. I’m lucky you’re a weakling…”

“I saw… flames, I…” Charles started, still out of breath from the exertion, and it was only then he noticed the dripping-wet-wearing-a-towel. A towel which was about to fall off at any second.

He swallowed.

Erik looked up, and coughed. Apparently Charles had been staring for a while.

“Eyes front, soldier,” Erik said, grinning. “Now would you come inside? I’m dripping all over the hallway.”

“Yes, um, I…” Charles stumbled in and Erik closed the door behind them.

#

He was led into the kitchen and Erik blasted the fire extinguisher at the still smouldering oven. The entire wall was scorched black.

“I went for a shower and forgot I’d left it in the oven,” Erik admitted sheepishly. He opened the oven door with an oven mitt and pulled the tray out. “Oh _no_!” he sighed. Two oblong lumps of charcoal sat in the centre, a peculiar smelling smoke wafting from them.

Charles fought a laugh. “Um, what are they supposed to-“ he suppressed another snort, “y’know, _be_?”

Erik looked wounded. “Garlic bread!”

“Yeah, somehow I think dinner is off the cards tonight?” Charles said.

Erik threw the tray down on top of the melted oven. “We can go out, my treat. Two seconds, I’ll go dry off and get dressed.” He called back from the other room. “How does Italian sound?”

Charles stared at the destroyed oven with a smile. “Italian sounds wonderful.”

#

Charles wasn’t sure if it was the wine, or the heat blasting out of the restaurant, or the spicy tagliatelle but his face was burning and his head was swimming. They were sitting outside, the full moon above them, and the sounds of people inside chatting away. “Seriously though, look at the tablecloths!” he said, lifting up the edge of the red-and-white-chequered cloth. “I keep expecting an overweight Italian man to come and serenade us with an accordion!”

Erik had to cover his face, his eyes streaming with laughter tears. “Well, we could always get one of the big plate of meatballs to share, á la Lady and the Tramp.”

Charles mimed pushing a meatball across the table with his nose and the two of them erupted again.

When the laughter finally faded into warm smiling the two of them just stared at each other. “You fucking nerd,” Erik said, shaking his head. Then he laughed. “I still can’t believe you brought flowers.”

“They were camellias,” Charles pointed at him. “And very nice ones. I just wish they hadn’t ended up on the pavement…” He looked askance, wistfully sad.

Erik laughed. “Oh my god look at you.” He drank the rest of his wine in one large gulp and looked back. Charles was still staring off in the distance but it was more intense now.

“Oh no…” Charles said.

“What? What is it?” Erik said, looking around.

Further down the street at the corner, Bobby Drake and Kitty Pryde were kissing passionately under a streetlight.

“Oh Marie…” Charles said. “That poor girl.”

Erik looked a little downcast, not quite sure what to say. He barely knew her personally but he knew of all the drama - he suddenly remembered reading that note out loud in class and felt a twinge of embarrassment. 

“She’s already been through so much already…” Charles said. “And Raven does her best but… Jesus. And now this.” He looked away, his face pinched as though at a bad smell. He poked a fork at the remainder of his pasta. “How could Bobby be so…” he picked his word carefully. _“Cold?”_

Erik shrugged. “They’re kids, Charles. They don’t know any better.”

“Should we…?”

“What, confront Bobby and Kitty?” Erik said. He shook his head. “What could we do about it?”

“I was thinking tell Raven,” Charles said, “but that doesn’t sound like that much better a plan to be honest..”

Erik rubbed his sinuses. “Tell you what.” He forced a smile. “Let’s think about it tomorrow.” And he refilled Charles’ wine glass. He read the label. “1973. Hell of a year.”

Charles shook his head. “How do you…?” then he gave up. “Was it?”

“Was what?”

“1973. Was it a hell of a year.”

“No idea, I don’t know a thing about wine.”

“You know how to drink it. In vast quantities.”

Erik laughed and picked up another slice of pizza. “That I do,” he said with his mouth full as he took a huge bite.

“You’ve got a little..” Charles said, gesturing at the string of mozzarella dangling from Erik’s lower lip.

“What?” Erik looked confused.

“Bit of cheese, here, hang on…” Without even thinking, he reached up with a hand and brushed the bottom of Erik’s lip. Then he realised what he was doing, and he froze. His fingers lingered.

Erik licked his lip. “D’you wanna… go?”

Charles gulped.

Erik raised a hand. “Cheque please!”

#

Erik’s front door burst open and the two of them tumbled in, hands all over each other, loud kissing noises and moaning as they stumbled from wall to wall, Erik leading them towards his bedroom. He was rough, with his hands and lips and he pawed like an animal in a way that made Charles whimper in delight.

They almost tripped as they found the bedroom and Erik chuckled. Then he pushed Charles down on the bed and stood over him. “You have _no idea_ how long I’ve waited for this.”

Charles gulped, and tugged his bow-tie off. “I think I have a vague idea.”

Erik grinned. “Oh, I have _lots_ of ideas. Very, very specific ones.” And he pulled his shirt off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh YHG gDOD i'MS O EMBARRASSED foR hAIVNG MADE THIS
> 
> what have i become
> 
> I haven't even read this over once like, even for typos, because if I do I might chicken out of posting it
> 
> (also my life is now sustained by making X-Men power puns in a no power AU so yeah there's that)


End file.
